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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27018271">It Must Be In the Blood</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopefullyLynn/pseuds/HopefullyLynn'>HopefullyLynn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>CSI: Crime Scene Investigation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Kid Fic, Light Angst, Mentions of addiction, Past Child Abuse, Team as Family</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:54:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,369</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27018271</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopefullyLynn/pseuds/HopefullyLynn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sara finds out she has a niece she never knew about after getting news that her twin brother has died of an overdose. Unwilling to let the child go into the system, Sara chooses to take care of her. Thankfully, she doesn't have to do it alone. Takes place in season 5, after Sara tells Grissom about her past, but before they get together.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gil Grissom/Sara Sidle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sara wasn’t surprised. Not really. It was the news that everyone who has ever loved an addict was both terrified to receive and yet always expected to get in the back of their minds. Not that they would ever say that, even to themselves. No, you told yourself instead that they would get better, or you just put it out of your mind altogether. It was out of your control, after all. </p><p><em>Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. </em>That was the prayer of every lost person in the meetings that Sara had taken her brother to on the many times he tried to quit, but she often wondered if those words were meant for the family of the lost instead. Or maybe the were just meant for Sara; stuck in a world full of things she couldn’t change. Of course, that was a long time ago now. Years. A lifetime ago, it felt like.</p><p>Vegas and San Francisco were very similar, for all the ways they were polar opposites. The same addicts. The same senseless loss of life. It was only Sara who had changed. She had meant it when she told Grissom that she wasn’t a drunk, because she knew what true addiction looked like.</p><p>Sara and her twin brother, Samuel, had been inseparable when they were younger. Especially before foster care. Going through hell was a lot easier when you had someone going through it with you. Between their father’s drunken rage and their mother’s insane spells of equally intense anger, their household was one where the day’s mood could change on a dime. They learned fast when to make themselves scarce. But on the occasions where they couldn’t get out of the range of fire fast enough, it was Sam who took the brunt of the abuse. For their mom, it was because he looked like his father and for their dad it was simply because he was the boy. </p><p>As adults, Sara and Sam did what most children from abusive homes do. They made a choice. Sara went through school as fast as she could, determined to make the life her parents couldn’t. She worked hard and used the mistrustful shell she had grown as a shield against the world. Sam never escaped the cycle. He got himself emancipated as soon as legally possible and never graduated high school. He was constantly moving from bad job to bad job, quickly loosing each one to drugs and alcohol.</p><p>But he tried. God he fucking tried. All throughout college, Sara would get calls at all hours of the night to pick him up from one halfway house or another, to take him to one more meeting. She answered every single time. Until one day he stopped calling.</p><p>
  <em>”Listen Sar, I’m a lost cause. We both know it. You gotta let me go. You’re so fucking smart. You’re going places. I... I’m nobody, sis.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>”That’s not true Sammy, where are-“ </em>
</p><p>But he had already hung up. Not long after that he’d been arrested for possession. She went to the station to bail him out, but left before he was even released. That was 10 years ago and she hadn’t seen him since. Now she sat on her bed, holding her phone and starring at the end-call screen blankly. An overdose. Twenty-six years of loving and taking care of someone closer to you than your own shadow, ten years of silence, and it all ends with a goddamn overdose.</p><p>Sara wishes she were angry at him, but she never was able to get mad with Sammy. She wishes she were sad, but she'd been afraid of this for years now and had guarded her heart from the pain. Instead she felt empty and achingly alone, like all the tethers that held her to the ground had been cut and she was floating in an empty space where no one bothered to be. She got up and showered and dressed. She made her lunch. She checked her bag and walked out the door, trying to feel her feet on the ground as she walked. Floating...</p><p>---</p><p>Grissom knew something was up immediately. Sara had expected he would, and she had no desire to hide from him regardless. She felt relieved, actually,  when he called her into his office. She could count on him to be cool and calm. She could borrow his energy for a few moments, and she knew he would gladly lend it to her. Grissom's quiet support, even when they were fighting, was as close to a universal constant as any human action could be. Sara trusted it without pause. </p><p>"Sara what's wrong?" He asked. Sara took a breath and sat down in the chair across from him at his desk.</p><p>"I need a few days off."</p><p>"Now? I thought everything was going well recently. Are you unhappy?" Now his face was fully concerned and his eyebrows did dipped down like they always did when he was upset and confused.</p><p>"No-no it's nothing like that. I need grievance leave. A family member passed away." Sara said, only stammering once at the beginning.  She wasn't embarrassed, exactly, but talking about her personal life was was still very new to her.</p><p>"Your mother?"</p><p>"No. I have- I mean I had, a twin brother. We weren't exactly close. We made very different life choices. He died yesterday. An overdose." Sara said, looking very carefully at the clock on the wall just behind Grissom's desk.</p><p>"I am so sorry for your loss. You can have all the time you need, of course. Is there anything I can do?" he asked. She had intended to end it there. Provide her false assurances and move one, like always. But his tone stopped her. He sounded very sincere; like she could have asked for an evning star, and it would be in her hands by the end of the night. A stray thought crossed her mind, and she voiced it before it had time to even become concrete.</p><p>"Will you come with me?” Sara asked.</p><p>“To the funeral?” Grissom responded, surprised.</p><p>“If you want to call one person watching a casket being put into the ground a funeral, then yes. I just… when my father was buried, it was just me and Sammy there. Two nine year olds and an impatient caseworker were the only proof that my father even existed. Even though he was an abusive asshole, I just remember being very sad for him. I don’t want that for my brother.” Sara said. She sighed; suddenly, deeply tired.</p><p>Maybe it was wrong or unprofessional to ask your boss to attend your brother’s funeral with you, but she and Grissom had never been just coworkers and recently they had gotten closer to the friendship they once had, and god help her, Sara did not want to do this alone. Despite telling herself she wouldn’t, she felt tears pricking her eyes, felt the familiar tightness in her throat that usually preceded a long crying episode. She looked down at her lap and tried to will the tears away. Sara could almost feel Grissom’s hesitancy leave as he moved around the desk to place his hand on the back of her neck in comfort.</p><p>“Of course, Sara. I’m sure Catherine can handle the lab for a few days. When do you need to leave?” His hand tightened slightly before loosening and stroking her shoulder once, then drawing away altogether.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm pretty sure canonically Sara was 13 when her dad was killed, but 9 felt better to me so I went with it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sara loved long car rides. It was a good thing, she supposed. More bodies were found in the desert than the city, so it felt like she spent more time in cars than anywhere else in her job. She was always happy to take the trips. It was a way for her to be around other people without having to think too hard about it. No one wanted heavy conversation when you had to be stuck in an enclosed space with someone for hours and miles at a time. It helped that she mostly got along with her co-workers. Or she had before Ecklie split them up, anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She and Nick had a nice and easy relationship, full of harmless flirting and quick smiles. Greg was still learning, but he and Sara had gotten much closer since she began training him. He was kind of like a little brother, in a way, and his goofy attitude was infectious. While she and Warrick hardly ever worked together, she respected the man as a CSI and knew she could count on him to have her back. It was no secret or surprise that she was not Catherine’s favorite person, or vise versa, but it was undeniable that they made a hell of a team whenever they were working together. So overall, there was no desire to make any ride tense or uncomfortable, and even if they did have such a wish, social rules tended to end the conversation before it began. Too bad nobody ever told Grissom about these rules.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When did you last see your brother?” He asked. They had been driving for only an hour of the eight ahead of them. She had let him drive, which was probably a very bad sign in retrospect. When she handed him the keys, her only thought had been relief that she didn’t have to bother with it after a sleepless night. She thought about refusing the question. Grissom would probably let it drop, unwilling to make Sara any more uncomfortable than she already was. But it wasn’t like she had anyone else to talk to about Sammy. Besides, if you couldn’t talk about your estranged dead twin to your boss, with whom you were hopelessly in love, then who could you talk to about him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ten years, three months, and eighteen days.” She said, voice barely above a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were-” Grissom cut off. She looked over at him and saw the small frown on his face, though his eyes never left the road. Two years ago, Sara might think he was frustrated with her short answer, but she knew better now. His hesitancy to upset her further was very sweet, but ultimately unnecessary. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, we were close when we were kids. Sammy was my protector, I guess. He kept mom and dad away from me most of the time.” Sara said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can only imagine.” Grissom murmured with a wince.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was very smart, and a lot funnier than I was. His favorite book was Charlotte’s Web. We used to catch all the spiders in the bed and breakfast and keep them in mason jars. Looking back, it was probably cruel to the spiders. We caught a tarantula once, but it got loose and scared the shit out of our mom when it ended up in her sock drawer.” Sara said, laughing just a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>If I can fool a bug... I can surely fool a man. People are not as smart as bugs.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Grissom quotes, smiling back at her. Sara’s own smile widened. Of course Grissom would be able to quote Charlotte’s Web.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would have liked him, Gris.” Sara sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was he like as an adult?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nobody is like anything when they’re an addict.” She’s frowning again. And there it is. The awkward silence filled the car and clung to Sara’s skin. She laid her head against the window of her door and stared at the highway passing by. It was raining.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sara, we’re at the hotel.” Grissom placed his hand gently on his sleeping passenger, hoping it wouldn’t startle her awake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm, Gris? Sleepy” She mumbled out, leaning into the touch. The sudden rush of affection took his breath for a moment, as it always did. He wanted so badly in that moment to just hold her; to take her into his arms and let her rest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, honey, but we’re here. We have to check in.” He could see the exact moment that full consciousness took her. Her eyes hardened and her shoulders gained the tense line that let him know that she remembered where she was and why. Grissom allowed himself one last touch before retreating into his bubble. He raised his hand from her shoulder to her hair, softly stroking it once. In these private moments, it felt as though his self-erected walls and rules were less secure. He was entirely certain that Sara wouldn’t call him out on the touch or pet name, regardless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she didn’t. She quietly got out of the car and looked at the Holiday Inn they were staying in. It was as bland and average as any hotel could be. The beige building was comforting to Grissom. He was nobody here; just a stranger in need of a reasonably priced room. There was freedom in anonymity, after all. As they walked up to the front door, Grissom found his hand straying back to his companion. Despite her unwillingness to speak about it, grief hung off Sara like icicles on a frozen branch. She moved like every step was a chore. He placed his hand at the small of her back, hoping it would give her even a little support. He would carry this burden for her, if possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman at the front desk took their information quickly. Sara had only rented one room but it had two beds, and frankly Grissom was glad to keep her close. The last time she had the glassy look in her eyes was when he picked her up for driving under the influence. He wondered if she was thinking of her brother then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow they managed to get a room on the top floor of the building, six stories up. It wasn’t until they made it to the elevator that she finally looked up at him for the first time since exiting the car. Her brown eyes had moved beyond the glassy vacant stare they had and now just looked pained. Her voice was so soft enough that Grissom had to mostly rely on his lip reading skills to hear what she was saying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need a hug.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was in his arms before the last word was even said. Finally, he thought.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Grissom's quote is from Charlotte's Web, in case that wasn't clear.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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